The Rules
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Edward Nigma has forty-four rules to surviving Gotham's criminal underworld and all of them come with painful(ly obvious) lessons.
1. Rule 1

A/N: I'm back again, like your creepy stalker! Alright, lets play a little game. It's called - How can we make double S cry? Give her the tools to whip her own hide! Thus, this was born. It initially started out as a little joke on Asylum Blues that ballooned into something much bigger which I intend to use to improve my understanding of everyone's favourite fanatacist!

It's rather simple. Edward has amassed forty-four rules to surviving Gotham's criminal underworld. Some are obvious, some have a specific reason for being there and some are just plain weird. I won't give a chronological order for any of these, i'm not suicidal but I will say that any that pertain to Edward Nashton (I.E: Rules #1-#5) are before he got busted and took the name Nigma. Now I should probably point out here, that I have not played Arkham Origins yet (I'm so behind trend *cries*) so any mistakes are made purely in error, despite the back-breaking research I do.

P.S: Would you guys like a list? I'm certainly interested to know which Rules look the most appealing. (Though I'm still going to do them in order.)

Warning: One or two swears, as always with me it seems.

* * *

_#1 Take the simplest route out of a building._

Oh well. This was just fantastic. Brilliant. All he needed.

Who the hell knew that taking the left door instead of the right one would lead him…Wherever he was now?

Do people know how to properly plan a building or are all architects constantly high?

Well… this was a Pinkney building. It could be argued the man was off his rocker before drugs entered his life.

_Just what is his fascination with Gargoyles? The bloody things decorate his buildings inside and out! It beggars belief!_

A noise, the clattering shift of a bottle alerted him to their presence.

Ugh. How utterly predictable. Gotham's finest.

And now he was lost. In a Pinkney building. With some beat cops. The kind that shoot first and explain away the dead body later. He knew they did. Sometimes he helped them cover it up.

This was supposed to be a simple entrance and exit through the building to scout for possible server points but now, he'd hit a wrinkle.

The room appeared to be most recently used as storage. Containers and boxes piled towards the ceiling blotted most of the moonlight that shone through the high windows. Well, there was his escape, now if only he had enough light with which he could find his starting point-

'Musta been a false alarm Jim. There's no-one here.'

'The witnesses-'

'I don't care what the witnesses saw, witnesses never agree-'

He stood and fumed as the voices lazily drifted towards him. Of course the _one_ time he was hoping they would be too stupid and lazy to bother with a _proper_ investigation, they did.

His eyes restarted their search for a low point when the clouds above Gotham parted and illumined a heavily soiled and dust covered cloth overlaying something large.

Curiosity got the better of him and he approached. The cloth was stiff with dirt and effectively ruined his clothes but that took secondary precedent to the more pressing need not to be caught. The first few tugs barely shifted it, but the more it moved the easier it became until the cloth flopped to the ground and sprayed him with dust and mould.

For a second, he was blinded by the light that shone back at him and desperately tried to cover his watering, stinging eyes.

'-Can't we just file a section three "Unfounded Report" and call it the end?'

'Not until we search the entire building Frank. Those're our orders.'

'Shit, that'll take _forever_.'

As his eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he realised he was staring at his own reflection. Two brilliantly blue eyes shone out from a pale, almost grey face streaked with dark lines of dirt. Brown hair, bleached of all but a shred of colour stuck up at odd angles, coated finely in specks of dust. His glasses, while normally unused thanks to vanity issues were also obscured with particles. A lithe, slim frame turned this way and that as he examined the state of his favourite outfit.

Edward Nashton sighed. Frankly this wasn't how his criminal career was meant to be going and while he had expected parts would be grimy and certainly messy, he hadn't expected to be chased so far and so fast, not by the GCPD.

He suppressed a laugh. He was being chased by his own employers. There was irony.

The mirror had provided the ideal light source, moonbeams scythed through the darkness that interspaced the boxes and Edward found a likely looking box just the right height to climb. It wouldn't reach the window but all he had to do was climb the escalating pyramid of wooden frames to the window and freedom would be his.

The boxes were, if possible, filthier than the cloth of the mirror had been. He didn't care though. Within minutes he'd closed in on his escape route. _Maybe next time they'll catch me._ He thought as the knee of his favourite suit tore thanks to a badly placed nail. His shivering skin felt fat snowflakes as they lazily fell from the heavens. He snorted as he reached out to push the freezing glass open. _I doubt that._

The shocking boom of a discharged gun rattled him as a chunk of plasterwork was effortlessly blown from the wall.

'Thought I didn't see you, bastard?!'

The sudden imbalance of weight all but caused him to slide headfirst out of the window. He owed his postponement with the ground to a well placed nail that had caught the torn fabric on his knee. Ominously, it was still tearing. It didn't take a man of his intellect to see what was going to happen next.

He dropped painfully into a snowdrift.

_Well fuck._

Now he was filthy, cold and wet.

At least he hadn't been caught yet. That was the main thing. He could put up with some mud and blood to get away scot free.

'Hey- I heard something from outside!'

'He's somewhere out there!'

The voices drifted out of the building and down to him effortlessly.

_Motherfucking-_

Being a criminal was a lot more frustrating and annoying than he'd every thought possible but as his bloody knee twinged and his back ached as he lurched into the darkness again, he had to give a small smirk.

They had no idea what was coming.


	2. Rule 2

**#2 Alliances never last**

Edward was desperate to hold onto his temper, it was quite a temper at that. Many bridges and then whole cities of relationships had been burned to cinders thanks in part to his famous temper.

He hated his temper, hated it when his intelligence took a sidestep to rage, not because it was a brutish lump of cells somewhere in the back of his amygdala, no. It was because in a rage he was told, he looked so much like his father which only served to enrage him further. He was nothing like his father and the mere suggestion that he was made bludgeoning himself half to death almost appealing.

It flared at the simplest of things. It could have been the dirty dishes in the sink, or the smell of unwashed socks that pervaded the home of Arthur Brown, but it wasn't.

For once, just once, Edward had gotten his hopes up, only for them to be dashed on the sharp, ever unforgiving rocks of reality.

He thought someone finally understood him, understood his drive and compulsions, but ultimately that was proven wrong.

'Edward, I know you're upset-' Arthur began.

'Upset?' Edward echoed hollowly. 'No Arthur, I'm furious.'

'I have a daughter, Edward! I have to protect my interests-'

'Interests?' Now there was only the slightest tremble of anger that ran through his words. 'Let me tell you something about protecting interests, Arthur. I have sacrificed almost everything to get where I am today. I've killed people and blackmailed and I've-'

'You don't have a daughter!' Arthur fumed. 'If you did you'd understand! It was fun at first Edward, Like a gameshow but I just can't keep doing it anymore. She's ashamed of me! Ashamed that her father steals money and spends it on her!'

'And you…Went to the police?' Edward was flabbergasted at his stupidity. Of course, he hadn't told the man everything about him, only that he worked in a public office when he wasn't planning crimes and of course, his interest in committing crimes was purely financial, a few other half-truths and lies aside, but that wasn't the problem.

_The problem is – Has he given the police my name?_

'What did you tell them?' Edward snarled.

Edward Nigma was completely capable of erasing both people and crimes from the police database, he'd done it before after all but usually he expected to be paid in the end and it was never _his_ crimes he was erasing.

But this was a wrinkle and if Edward hated anything, it was a problem in his perfect little world of plans.

'Cluemaster,' He sighed and used the man's alter-ego _if that's what you can call it._ He thought in disgust. 'What did you tell them?'

'I told them….I told them…' The man seemed to wilt under Edward's glare. 'I told them nothing Edward.'

'Nothing?' Edward could be forgiven for feeling reticent or disbelieving.

'No.' Arthur uttered quietly.

Well. Maybe this wasn't such a failure after all. If he hadn't spoken to Edward's employers, then they probably still had no idea he'd been doing some very naughty things.

Because if cops hated anything more than drug pushers and gangsters, it was anyone who dirtied the uniform. That kind of hypocrisy was widespread in the GCPD. It was something you could depend on. The people in charge were corrupt, but corruption in their officers was unspeakable.

Still, Arthur needed to be seen to. He couldn't blabber about Edward to anyone.

He'd arrived in his traditional attire, a sweater and pinstripe trousers, but he still carried his gun.

Every policeman had to have a gun and Edward was no exception. For someone who never saw active duty, he had the highest marks in the shooting range. He made it his mission to be perfect at everything put before him and to his disappointment…Perfect was easy.

Perhaps that was why he migrated towards the GCPD. Crime was a puzzle and puzzles fascinated him. They had for as long as he could remember. They weren't immediately easy, they were a hard slog.

From then on Edward was sold. His passion became an obsession.

It was far too easy to subdue Arthur, all things considered. He certainly wasn't expecting it and Edward had the advantage of height.

Edward forced the smaller man onto the couch and used a pillow as an impromptu silencer.

He hardly felt remorse, Arthur was after all, an attention-seeker. Which was what attracted Edward to him in the first place. On his own, he was a petty criminal, hardly on Batman's calibre but using him as a shield, Edward could go about unmolested. His crimes were pegged as that of Cluemasters.

He hadn't anticipated the kinship of having someone almost like him, but in the end, it was proven that Arthur was weak.

Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Funny, really. He expected to be much more emotional when he finally did shoot and kill someone but he was oddly calm.

He was able to rationalize what he'd done and accept it rather easily.

The problem was…He'd used his police-issued gun. If they found that bullet it would be almost as bad as Arthur going to the police. With a sigh he walked into the kitchen and pulled a knife from the block.

Alliances never last.

* * *

A/N: Switch here. I've been drafted in to comment on Edward's little rules. Ew, ick. Digging bullets out of brains, it's a messy business when there's so much soft flesh involved. Yay for shooting someone, I guess?

Nigma's freakin' scary sometimes when he thinks logically. Far more dangerous than simply being in a rage.


	3. Rule 3

**#3 Always have a backup plan**

It spread like wildfire through the forensics department. _That bastard Enigma is among us._

People openly whispered it in the corridors and various break rooms of the GCPD. It was impossible to put to rest and Edward Nashton, the head of the Cyber Crime Unit heard it told at least three times before he'd even gotten to his desk. Twelve before he'd finished his first coffee of the day.

_Pretending to be one of us!_

_That traitorous bastard! _

_Should be lynched!_

All that was being let out was that Internal Affairs were confident an arrest would be made soon.

_Good luck with that._ Edward thought smugly. _You idiots couldn't possibly know who it is. _

Although, now that he thought about it…The day was not normal. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. People seemed to be watching the clocks a little closer than normal. Like something was about to happen.

Edward wouldn't be anything if he weren't appropriately paranoid.

He ever so casually looked up and over his computer monitor. His office was a Spartan, clinical environment. No pictures, no novelty items, no personal effects. But it was pretty open on the floor.

How many times had he done this? Too many, always during the late night when it was only ever him left. Now, he was going to do it in broad daylight, surrounded by cops no less.

It wasn't hard to hack into the higher level computers, it was child's play to run a sweep and net the file he was looking for and only a computer illiterate buffoon like the head of internal affairs would have his password as 'Ponyplay' Which frankly made it impossible for Edward to look the man in the face again without cracking some kind of joke in future.

'Persons of interest in regards to ENIGMA.'

There was only one name on the list. His. He skimmed through the file expertly as rage threatened to break his icy calmness.

It was infuriating enough that they'd worked out it had been him who had almost brought the city to it's knees but even more infuriating that the possibility was recommended by _Batman._

Oh he was going to teach that meddling Dork Knight a lesson he would never forget if it was the last thing he did, but first Edward Nashton needed to get the hell out of dodge.

He unlocked the file drawer of his desk, something that he had never been seen using and opened it up. Unsurprisingly, there were no files, however there was a little green question mark on a stand- a prototype as it turned out- and below that were several pounds of RDX that should have _technically_ been in evidence lock-up. It was the work of a few moments to arrange the bomb and close the drawer. If he'd calculated correctly –And Edward was never wrong- It should be just enough to blow the entire floor and kill everyone he'd ever worked with.

He carefully arranged the trophy in a way that garnered maximum view for the tiny little fisheye in the tittle and picked up his coffee mug. For all intensive purposes, he looked like a man on the hunt for caffeine as he approached the stairs, careful to stay out of sight of the elevators.

On the next floor, he dumped the mug on someone's desk and strolled almost nonchalantly towards the exit.

Long ago he'd clocked the sweep of the cameras and if timed just perfectly, his exit could go unseen.

Sometimes, he wondered what life is like without contingency plans.

Chaotic and full of surprises he supposed. Edward hated surprises and he hated chaos but Batman was quickly overtaking both of those to be the thing he hated most of all.

He waited in one of his favourite cafes for someone to make a move. A finger trailed up and down the pristine cup of his espresso patiently; The accompanying muffin untouched. He was much too engrossed to eat, his eyes never left his phone.

_This_ was excitement. _This _was living on the edge. Although it would have been much more fun to tease them with a puzzle about what he intended to do, he didn't have time. An utter shame, that.

He saw a flicker of movement in the lens of the camera and felt his breath halt as the shape moved. Something was happening. Unfortunately the prototype's camera wasn't as high tech as he'd like, all he could see past its ideal depth were blobs. He needed them closer.

He began breathing again as the cautious shapes moved closer and lamented that he hadn't included a microphone in the design. He wanted to taunt his colleagues turned victims. He wanted to converse and hear their frustrations about how they _nearly_ caught him. _The next one._ He promised himself. The next one will have a microphone. Or maybe just a simple recording. He could put his riddles on them and wind the damn Bat up a little more. It was brilliant.

Unconsciously, he wondered when his breathing became heavier and when he began to pick up all the smells around him. It was the hidden work of adrenaline, responding to his excitement.

_Which little idiot is unwary enough to come to investigate my little trap?_

Oh Edward was going to teach them exactly who they were messing with. They needed to get in closer; he wanted to see their _faces._

Suddenly, they backed away. Wary, afraid. What had gone wrong? What had tipped them off?

His heart rate suddenly skyrocketed as a dark figure stepped out from behind the desk.

Batman.

_Blow it; blow it now while I have the chance!_

He pressed the detonate button on his phone and braced for the sounds of utter carnage but nothing happened.

_What?_

He pressed it again and again, each time becoming more and more frustrated that his bomb had not detonated.

He watched the smug visage of Batman hold up the crushed receiver and lost all semblance of control.

'That goddamn Bat!'

The taste of victory all but soured in his mouth as he swept an arm across the table in sheer fury; porcelain shattered on the floor and menus flew as stormed out to the shock of the staff and patrons.

They had his computer now. Oh it would have nothing of great use to them on it, but that wasn't the point. The point was to make it clear he was not to be underestimated and Batman patently _hadn't_. He shouldn't have tried to be showy; he should have had a back-up plan.

The next time, he would ensure his plans were fulfilled. One way or another.

* * *

_A/N: It's Dead Switch again, folks. As Edward learned, so many people have tried to blow Batman up that by now he kind of expects it I guess. Still, that's no reason to disappoint him now is it? Oooh Lookit that, it's a prototype trophy! You would not believe the gadgets he's stuffed into these over the years. Microphones, C4, poison…You name it; it's been in one of those little beauties. Oh and a tittle is the dot on the bottom of a question mark. Yeah, you pick a lot of that sort of thing up…_


	4. Rule 4

**#4 Don't underestimate the enemy.**

Edward sat on the low bench of his cell and brooded. He had no idea how Batman had found him so _quickly_ but he must have cheated. No-one is _that_ good. No-one just barges into a tiny, pokey little flat on the roof of a partially subsided tenement building in lower Gotham, a shed-like add-on that couldn't be seen through the forest of chimney stacks and rusted units without prior knowledge and he _damn well did_.

Edward was furious about that, far more than being torn out of his blazing hideout thanks to some flammable material, loose wiring and the chaos that comes with a winged vigilante breaking down the door.

He spent some time attempting to correct the abysmal spelling of the graffiti that littered the walls before even that bored him.

This wasn't exactly what he had in mind for his career, even when he became ENIGMA and of course he revelled in his nickname, what man wouldn't? Enigma had such a good sound to it he'd considered using it as his nom de plume. Enigma. E. Nigma. What a witty coincidence. He simply had to use that at some point after his escape. Just as soon as he figured out how he was going to escape. From inside the cell it seemed a mountainous task.

Although, the mountain began to seem far less insurmountable than he'd first thought. Footsteps pounded the uselessly shined tile outside his cell and he heard keys jangling. The turn of tumblers as the door was unlocked dragged his attention away from "Gus's a wanka"

He had expected lawyers and doctors trying to "Assess" him for mental deficiency. Of course, they'd find none but they were always willing to look in any case. The people on the other end of the door, however, weren't academics looking for their next big turnaround. They were all cops and they, each to a man, looked malevolent in their intent.

'Turn around Nashton.' The one with the keys spoke menacingly.

Unrepressed, Edward smirked as he did as he was told. This was so much better than what he'd hoped.

They were going to take him out of the station and beat him to a pulp.

* * *

'Are you sure this is such a good idea?' The youngest and by his apprehension, newest recruit asked uncertainly as Edward sat in the back of a police car, flanked on either side by angry uncooperative cops. The newbie in the passenger seat upfront looked pale and worried as he spoke to the driver. 'Someone's bound to find out!' He begged.

'Nobody's going to miss him for an hour or two.' The driver responded calmly. 'Besides, that riddling traitor tried to blow up the GCPD. He has it coming.'

'Yeah but taking him out into the Narrows to beat the snot out of him, is that such a good idea?'

'Shut up, Howard. You don't need to participate, just keep an eye out while we teach Nashton a lesson.' The cop on his right supplied.

'I just don't think taking justice into our own hands like this is-' Howard began again.

'Shut up, Howard!' This time it was a lot more aggressive and the meek man was forced to be silent.

While his right escort raged at the coward in front, Edward gently slipped his hand into the man's pants pocket.

His questing fingers came out without a key but with something just as good. A paperclip.

'I'm just saying-' Howard really was going for gold in the wretched department.

Edward couldn't help himself. He had to antagonize further, purely for his own amusement.'Don't worry _Howard_, I'll be fine.'

'Shut up Nashton!' The angry cop on his right supplied and pulled his gun from it's holster. Within a fraction of a second he'd pistol whipped him. Blood streamed and pain seared across his nose as the driver noted what was going on in the back.

'Oi Jacobs! Not in the damn car!' The driver snapped.

'He had it coming!' The angry Jacobs snapped back.

Edward bent and laughed himself hoarse as blood steadily spread over the upholstery which only seemed to infuriate his abductors even further. With the cops distracted by all the DNA he was pouring in the car, Edward took the opportunity to unfurl the makeshift pick and ready it. As he'd hoped and expected, Jacobs didn't like his reaction. 'Pull the fuck over Gary, we're gonna do this, _now_.'

The car screeched to a halt at the entrance to a dead-end alleyway and Edward was dragged out.

It didn't take a genius of his intellect to see where this was about to go. His fingers scrabbled behind his back to insert the pick into the cuffs as three of the four officers advanced on him.

_Attacking a man with his hands cuffed behind his back. What cowards._ Edward sneered. Still, He could hardly begrudge them their advantage. _Temporary advantage._ He corrected himself. _As soon as I get these damn cuffs off-_

He became increasingly worried as they came closer. Nightsticks were pulled from their holsters. One extended fully in swift movement, the other remained sheathed but just as deadly as it's comrade.

'You not scared Nashton? You soon will be.' Jacobs snarled. 'And hurtin' too.'

'What scares me far more than your little stick is your grasp of the English language.' He shot back. Whatever his intentions, it only served to rile his abductors further and with some renewed determination they approached. The pick manipulated the tumblers of the cuffs with increasing speed. He would have liked to have his hands free before they landed a blow but at the rate they were moving towards him and the painfully slow process of tricking the cuffs into thinking he had the key, Edward knew that he'd at least be given one or two blows.

He noted a black shape darting between the tiles of the roof above him as his cuffs finally unlocked. His smirk widened into a full blown laugh as the two corrupt cops came within striking distance. The metal of the extended nightstick whipped across his face and aggravated the injury to his nose just as Batman dropped down on top of them.

The corrupt cops immediately had their attention diverted and Batman had his hands full. When was he ever going to get a better getaway? If Batman noticed Edward legging it around the scuffle and over the bonnet of the car with the cuffs dangling from one wrist, he never indicated it.

'Stop, criminal!' Howard the terrified cop had, though. He'd managed to pull his gun out and was aiming for Edward with alarmingly steady aim.

'Shoot me then.' He laughed and took off at a run in a spirited attempt to get as far from the scene of the fight as possible. The young police officer simply watched him skid around a corner and cursed.

Edward knew the Narrows well; this time he was going to get as far from Batman's last known location as fast as possible. Of course young Howard would never have shot him. Edward knew bent cops and policemen on the take and Howard didn't seem that kind of officer. He was, however, probably on the radio to the GCPD about what had just happened and Edward was determined to be on the opposite side of the city by the time they uncovered the full story and realised they were a criminal down.

Still, the lesson had been learned. Don't underestimate your enemy. This time, he wasn't going to underestimate Batman. This time, he was going to make a conscientious effort to stay ahead of the Dork Knight and avoid capture. He wasn't going to waste a golden opportunity.

Thank god for self-righteous brotherhoods and their deluded sense of justice.

* * *

_I'm sure we're all thinking the same thing here: Run Edward, run! Ah bent cops. You can depend on scum like that. I think this is the earliest example of the strategy of allowing himself to get a kicking in exchange for freedom, to good effect. Still, Batman doing all the work for him was a nice touch. _

A/N: What is this? I don't even- Fail. Here's a tip: There's a difference between editing for improvement and editing the point out. I think I succeeded in the latter. Still, we're slowly starting to see the Edward we all known and love. :D

I love you guys and I love your reviews and I especially love how much you love my crappy version of Edward. I do read and appreciate my reviews but I always forget to reply to them. I'm totally not ignoring you guys! Promise!


	5. Rule 5

**#5 Appearances can be deceiving.**

Edward Nashton – Soon to be Nigma if the courts had finally gone through that tedious paperwork – Had spent quite a while on the lamb as they say. After that little incident at the GCPD and being hunted to a police cell by Batman he was then given the opportunity to run thanks to some corrupt officers of the law, Edward spent numerous months avoiding Batman at all costs.

The Bat was dangerous, but Edward had plans for that. _Had._ Once again it had all gone up in smoke. It was almost a rehash of their last match. Batman appearing suddenly at his oh so impossible to find hideout and dragging him out of his burning lair, although this time he never did know how _exactly_ it burned down.

There were no cops bent on retribution to help him escape and no other avenue presented itself, unfortunately. Which meant Edward was forced to go along with the abysmal clutter of outdated laws that passed as justice. Rather unsurprisingly, he was deemed insane.

Edward was incarcerated in Arkham Asylum alongside the gibbering, the senile, and the psychotic. It was infuriatingly humiliating for him. He wasn't insane, but if Arkham's reputation were true, he soon would be.

Patently they had no idea who they were dealing with; they'd placed him with the main population. The people who muttered to themselves, who were too terrified by the things they couldn't see to be bothered by the things they could and those too catatonic to do much more than eat and sleep.

_If they expect me to rot here for all eternity they are mistaken._ Edward Sneered. _I could break out of here within a week!_

'Well, well. I heard they were bringing someone new in.'

His head snapped up at the sound of a bored but intelligent voice drifting from the opposite end of the corridor. Cautiously, he unwound himself from the bed and approached the tiny bars set into his door.

Edward was well aware he was in a mental facility and appearances can quite often be misleading but after a few hours on his own, he would talk to anyone intelligent enough to hold a decent conversation. Even if that someone wore a colander on their head and declared themselves the high priest of Pastafarians.

'Who are you?' He asked suspiciously. _If he mutters one senile phrase, I'm just going to ignore him. _

'Doctor Jonathan Crane.' The voice replied with heavy emphasis on the word _Doctor._ 'Suffice to say I've been desperate for decent conversation for months. They say you're a genius which _sounds_ promising.'

'Oh?' Edward muttered uncommitted to discussion. 'What are you a doctor of, Crane?'

There was a pause as Edward waited for his answer. Crane sighed heavily as though coming to some sort of conclusion. 'Psychology.'

'Ha!' The laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it, but the irony was just too delicious. A psychologist in a mental facility, not as doctor but as patient.

The voice took on an edge that had not been there before Crane's admittance. 'Yes, the irony is not lost on me.' He snapped. 'I assure you it was not my intention to be incarcerated here but those fools in the courthouse seem to agree that I'm insane.' He added bitterly.

_Well so far he hasn't tried to cleanse me with holy spaghetti or uttered a word of pure fantasy. _Edward thought to himself. _Still, there are ways to hide your insanity._

'Exactly why did they think you were insane?' He asked curiously.

'I _may_ have dabbled in illegal research and developed a compound that stimulated the fear centre of the brain.' Crane muttered flippantly. 'It's not that I'm addicted to using it!'

Edward leaned against his door; arms folded and easily crossed one leg over the other. 'Of course not.' He soothed as he laughed inwardly. _Fear compound? The man __**is**__ insane._

'I can prove it.' Crane muttered darkly as though well aware of Edward's thoughts on the validity of his sanity.

'Can you now?' Edward smirked. He really should just end all communication but this was the most decent chat he'd had since being re-arrested.

'We help each other;' Crane deadpanned 'we can escape together.'

That got Edward's attention. Escape? Definitely. With a nut-job like Crane? Debateable. Although, if they were caught, Edward could always throw Crane to the wolves and use his extended time to escape. His brilliant brain never failed to come up with something.

'Say I'm interested.' Edward muttered. 'How exactly would this work?'

'It's rather simple. I have the codes for the cells but after my last attempt, they made sure I was unable to reach the keypad. However, with a little ingenuity you should be able to reach yours. I'll tell you the codes if and _only_ if you use them to open my cell.'

'After your last attempt?' Edward chortled delightedly.

'I may have tried to gas the entire asylum before leaving and dallied a little too long.' Crane admitted.

This time Edward was prepared for the laugh trying to squirm out of his mouth. 'Of course, of course. It happens to us all. Why, if I'd have known Batman was in the GCPD I'd have blown my little bomb before he broke the receiver.'

'Batman? That insufferable, brutish lump is the reason I'm incarcerated in here!'

Suddenly, Edward felt less inclined to poke fun at Crane. Their common ground was a surprising one. 'Batman? Batman put you in here?'

'Yes. And when I get my hands on him he'll know fear!' Crane snapped menacingly.

'Why don't you tell me those codes, Crane?'

'Believe me now?' Crane's tone was mocking which usually would have riled Edward but today, with Crane, he could forgive it.

'Let's just say I'm willing to bank on the possibility.' He muttered. 'You were the one in the burlap mask, weren't you?' His memory brought to mind a malnourished figure in a burlap hood with gas mask poking through. 'What did you call yourself?'

'Call me Scarecrow.' Crane's voice took a darker turn. He rattled off a series of numbers as Edward stretched an arm out of the tiny window and down to the keypad. With touch alone he succeeded in typing in the numbers. A low buzz broke the silence as his door unlocked.

Crane was incarcerated in the cell opposite his. Edward approached cautiously and began typing out the list of numbers Crane had given him. At the sound of the keystrokes, two startlingly cold eyes turned to look at him.

This could be the start of a beautiful partnership. Crane seemed intelligent even with his little failing and lord knows Edward did not know many people of his intellect. Finding one in an insane asylum was perhaps especially strange. If he had not indulged Crane, he would have assumed him to be absolutely bonkers.

Appearances can be deceiving.

* * *

_Aww Edward's not the same without his bestie. Don't you just love how Batman can bring people together in mutual hatred? Knowing Edward, he would have left Scarecrow to rot and skipped off into the sunset to cause mayhem on his own, but Jonny had a similar goal in mind and Edward was feeling generous_._ after all, the bat did burn down his hideouts, twice.__ It worked out well for the both of them, don't you agree?_

A/N: You'll be seeing Scarecrow pop up on a semi-regular basis in this series because they're total besties. THEY TOTALLY ARE. I simply love Edward and Jonathan's reactions to one-another.

Oh and there really are Pastafarians and they really do wear colanders on their heads as the symbol of office. Not quite sure about Holy Spaghetti, consider it a bit of artistic licence. Personally I would love to see them fight it out with the Church of Cthultu but that's one for my own sick fantasies. Hail Flying Spaghetti Monster, mortals!

PPS: I finally garnered enough courage to read this to my boyfriend who declared it perfect, even the weird bits on religion. Boyfriend approved! Booyah!


	6. Rule 6

**#6 Joker's plans often change.**

Edward Nigma considered himself an unhindered genius. The state considered him an unhinged psycho. It was something they clashed with frequently. The government and their labels. Though in relative terms, he was eclipsed enormously by many other psychos and their undisputed king of madness, Joker.

Unfortunately, one cannot get by in Gotham's criminal underworld without having one or two dealings with the clown.

'Joker, _where are you?_' Edward hissed into his phone. He was far from happy with the clown to begin with and technically should have been wrapped up in his favourite chair by the monitors dreaming of money and fame. Instead, he was standing in the freezing wastes of the docks, waiting on Joker. 'I've left you a dozen messages you smiling simpleton. You had better get back to me!' Edward snarled and flipped his phone closed.

He hated Joker. No, he _loathed_ that giggling grandstander. Joker couldn't distinguish friend from foe, or maybe he just didn't want to. He'd alter plans at the last second just to make things more entertaining and he had no qualms about killing anyone. At all. Even other rogues.

It wasn't just his total lack of thought for those around him that bothered Edward, oh no. It was that somehow, some way, Joker considered them _friends._ Whether or not that was better or worse than Edward's current position remained to be seen.

Occasionally, Joker would call him with some _totally_ hypothetical situations that Edward would idly watch play out on the late night news which sometimes could be a decent distraction but after the last time Joker called him, Batman had traced the call and effectively hauled him into custody alongside Joker.

That had been a horrifying ride. Never again. He swore he wasn't going to stick his neck out for that demented man again and he'd made that clear at the time.

So how exactly did he end up at the docks in the wee hours of the morning, calling him?

Edward grumbled, mainly because he would have preferred to be warmer than what the late autumn night offered. Even with the thickness of his coat, the wind still managed to rob him of much sought warmth.

_If Joker doesn't show up soon I'm going home and this time I really am never answering another of his damn calls again._ Edward seethed.

Just as he was about to call it a day and head back he heard the distinctive screech of tyres. It seemed Joker was on his way after all, causing his usual mayhem on the way. That damn clown had no concept of stealth or knowledge of the phrase _under the radar. _It was loud or louder. Yet another reason Edward loathed the man.

The car drifted around the corner of the warehouse, or at least attempted to; the front end took quite a lot of sheet metal and concrete with it which broke a headlight in the process. It spun out and idled as its one remaining bulb lit up Edward's unhappy silhouette.

A beat of silence passed as Edward waited impatiently for Joker to crawl out of the wrecked motor. On cue, the crumpled door opened and the guffawing idiot poured himself onto the slick concrete of the docks. He laughed all the harder when he realised he had landed in a pile of carelessly discarded entrails and was struggling to stand. 'Eddie! Glad you could make it!'

'I left a dozen messages Joker.' Edward snarled icily.

'Whoops! Afraid I'm in the market for a new phone!' Joker cackled. 'Batsy put paid to my contract.'

Why didn't that surprise him?

'Well it's no wonder I spun out! Do you think they _ever_ clean the fish guts from the floor?' Joker giggled, still attempting to get some purchase on the oily concrete.

Judging from the smell, Edward had to go with _never_. It was worse than Croc's smell and _he_ lived in the sewers. The faster Edward found out why Joker had dragged him down here the faster he could go home and take an exceedingly hot shower, although he had a terrible suspicion that the smell wouldn't come out with just one go around. As for his clothes…

_Joker had better have a good reason for this. _

'Why did you threaten to bomb my hideout, Joker?' Edward sighed.

'I knew you wouldn't see me face to face Eddie! Cooped up in front of all those Tv's _can't_ be good for you!'

'_Joker_.' Edward replied testily.

'Oh fine, you're such a spoilsport, ya know that Riddles?' Joker pouted.

'_Don't call me that_.'

Now he remembered the biggest reason for hating the clown. _By god, Joker drives my blood pressure up. He delights in poking at my temper and seeing the reaction and never gets bored of it._

'I need you to keep the Bat entertained.' Joker finally admitted.

Edward had no idea what to say to that, at least nothing good and nothing that didn't come with some curse attached. Joker knew how he felt on the subject. In the end, he chose to say nothing.

'I can't go back to the asylum Eddie-boy! Harley's there! You'd help a man escape the ol' ball and chain, won't you?' Joker begged, although begged was the wrong word, snorted and guffawed was more like it.

_Joker not wanting to see Harley?_ This was much too intriguing to ignore; especially considering he'd been dragged down to the docks, a little fun at Joker's expense wouldn't hurt.

'Relationship troubles, Joker?' He mocked. The shrewd, calculating look Joker threw him told him all he ever needed to know. 'What happened?'

'Plans often change.' The clown replied darkly. He finally succeeded in pulling himself up with the aid of the car and sauntered towards Edward. With every step the reek of rotting fish increased. 'I _tried_ to tell her that there was only time for one of us to escape but you know women! _Ya just don't want me around Mistah J, I know when I'm unwanted, Red'll know how I feel_!' Joker mimed Harley's shrill, nagging voice and roared with laughter. 'I hear Ivy's threatened to make me _biodegradable_!'

_If he gets any closer I'm going to have to burn my clothes_. Edward thought disgustedly.

'I won't help you anymore Joker, after the last time.' Edward reminded him.

'Like I said Eddie-boy. Plans change.' In the few seconds of Edward's lapse concentration, Joker had succeeded in grabbing one of his wrists and slapped a cuff onto it. He fastened the other to the rusted railing of the docks.

'What the _hell_, Joker?!' Edward snarled as Joker dodged out of his reach and laughed.

'Like I said Eddie! I need you to distract Batsy for just a little while. I don't want to have to deal with Harley just yet.' With some ceremony, Joker reached behind his back and pulled what looked like a little blinking bat from his coat. He laughed and stuck it to Edward's forehead before dodging the scything cane.

'You asshole, Joker! Get back here!' Edward screamed after his retreating form.

With a jaunty wave, Joker disappeared into the gloom.

_He can't just- He did __**not**__ just- _ Edward was flabbergasted by Joker's actions but his inner survivalist snapped him out of his shock.

_Batman was chasing him. Batman was on his way here, now. _

Scrambling frantically, Edward reached up and pulled the slim device from his forehead. With a grunt he threw it on the floor and stomped on it. That should effectively end the signal and give him a little more time. Next, he twisted the head of the cane to reveal a hidden compartment with a lockpick safely inside.

_I knew that would come in handy one of these days!_ He grinned triumphantly and inserted the pick into the lock. _When I get my hands on Joker, giggling will be the last thing he does!_

No doubt Batman was already homing in on the last known broadcast and he was nothing if not focused when it came to Joker running amok. There was no way that winged git was going to catch him like this. Edward was not going to admit Joker had caught him out. That was simply absurd!

The pick rattled around the lock as he struggled with the mechanism.

_I'm going to design a deathtrap just for Joker. One he won't possibly walk away from. _Edward fumed. _That ought to wipe the smirk from his face._

He'd just succeeded in freeing himself when the swish of fabric and Batman's low gravelly tone cut through his savage triumph and plans for revenge. 'Well, well. Riddler. Working with Joker now?'

Edward was going to_ get_ Joker for this.

* * *

_Joker can be sneaky on occasion. Sneaky isn't the same as stealthy. Still, luring Edward to the docks to give Batman something to chase just cause you don't want to see your girlfriend? Nasty but hey- Joker's plans often change. On a somewhat related note: Edward did get Joker back for his assholery. It involved one of his very special deathtraps, balance, and Batman. I have the tape to prove it. Obviously neither died. Pity. Two birds with one stone. _

A/N: You guys would not believe how much fun I had writing this. Thank you to everyone who faved/reviewed/followed The Rules! My, did I get quite a pleasant shock with the boom in my inbox and we're not even a quarter of the way through! xD

P.S: Why is Joker both entertaining and difficult to write? *headdesk* This is the last pre-prepared one, expect slower updates in future and continued fun at the expense of one Edward Nigma.

Enjoy~!


	7. Rule 7

**#7 Trust no-one.**

Edward hated crowds; there was something about having too many people in one room that brought back bad memories. He also hated coming into contact with other rogues and, come to that, intoxication. Alcohol did awful things to your body and mind.

Suffice to say the Iceberg was not topping his list of favourite venues and yet, against all his morals, he was at the bar drinking whiskey.

Oh lord he'd forgotten how unpleasant neat spirits can be when you're still sober. The stuff burned all the way down and he'd never forget the aftertaste. Thankfully, it was quiet in the rogues bar tonight. Most of the troublemakers had run into Batman and Joker was banned from every inch of Cobblepot's precious nightclub.

It was just him at the bar, drinking. Pretending to socialize. Trying not to think of that incident in fourth grade with Nancy and that huge crowd-

_Good god, I'm a grown man! A rogue of Arkham! The damn Riddler!_ It was the whiskey, wasn't it? It was bringing up some unpleasant things.

_Like that time Drew Pennyright broke my nose. _He thought morosely. _Our peers cheering him on. _Edward sneered into his drink and gulped the last disgustedly. _All because I made him look like the Neanderthal he patently was. _

To hell with human interaction. He might as well go home and spend the night trolling the CIA for giggles. That never failed to make him feel better.

He was just about to gather his coat and hat when the doors burst open to admit Two-Face.

Fantastic. Dent. It wasn't that Edward hated him on the same platform as Joker, no-one can match his hate for the clown except possibly Batman but The Man of Duality could cause such a damn headache. One side would agree with you, the other wouldn't. There was no winning with Two-Face. He really didn't want an extended chat with a stomach full of whiskey. If he gathered up his things quickly enough-

'Edward.'

Too late. Edward sank into his seat and cursed his sluggish, inebriated movements. 'Harvey.' He nodded as the man took the stool on his left. 'I thought you were in Arkham.'

'I was.' Dent grinned in that sinister way of his. As per usual, whatever one side did, the other did the opposite. The good corner of his mouth turned up, the scarred corner turned down.

'Oh I see. Particularly difficult, was it?' Edward asked.

'Not at all. They're getting lax.' Dent smirked. 'I'm celebrating the breakout.'

'Oh, good for you.' Edward nodded. He was just about to make his excuses and depart; it was on the tip of his tongue-

'You'll celebrate with me, won't you Nigma?'

Excuses trotted onto his tongue but a quick glance around produced few people in the rogues bar.

There was Captain Stingaree, and a forest of rum bottles in one corner. The ever delusional Maxie Zeus in another, muttering to himself and translating ancient Greek between sips of an extremely small glass of the final corner like the last link in a chain of dismal evidence, was Otis who was only sometimes known as The Ratcatcher feeding the scraps of a burger that was probably not his to the rats that followed him everywhere. Pathetic. It was a jamboree of petty costumed criminals. All the big boys – That was everyone but Edward and now Harvey – Had much deeper problems, things that wouldn't be cured by a stiff drink and a rant.

Damn. He was socially obliged to stay and entertain him. He could plead business-

'Drinks are on us.'

Well in that case…

He retook his seat and called over the gutless little sputum that Cobblepot had on the bar.

* * *

Edward's return to consciousness was painful and gradual. His head _ached_. It pounded against his skull.

He was back in his hideout, in his beloved computer chair, with dozens of bottles strewn around his monitors.

_What had happened last night? _He'd agreed to toast Harvey's escape and they'd done shots…

Why did he believe it was such a good idea to drink so much alcohol? He was dangerously dehydrated and in need of something, anything to get rid of the throbbing pain behind his eyeballs.

Trying to stand was difficult. He'd torn his trousers at some point; they were encrusted with what smelled like stagnant water. He brought his arm up to wipe a hand down his face and noticed the dozens of rubber stampings.

Something was on his monitors; the web browser was open on YouTube. He struggled to read the bold headline.

"Drunk Rogues go on a rampage."

Oh god it wasn't…

He had to know how bad it was.

A few seconds of watching determined it wasn't merely bad, it was a horrendous display of dignity wrecking buffoonery.

This was Dent's fault.

He eventually found his phone; it was sitting in one waterlogged pocket. Ruined.

For the love of Christ-

One hand threw the useless technology into the bin, his other hand reached for a large drawer on the left of his chair. It opened to reveal dozens of similar looking phones. He rummaged around and grabbed the first his fist closed on.

The banging headache made him think it was a simply terrible idea to talk to Two-Face, but since the rogue should be on a similar level of pain to Edward, it made him less likely to give pain for fear of receiving it.

'Ngghh- Who's this?' Good. He sounded ready to die. Karma deos it's work once again.

'It's Nigma you insufferable oaf!' Edward snapped.

'Not so loud!' Dent snarled tiredly. 'We've got a killer hangover.'

'I know you uploaded that video Harvey.' Edward replied icily.

'What video?' Dent sounded completely confused. Over the phone Edward heard scrapes and groans as Two-Face dragged himself from his pit and over to his computer.

For a few minutes, Edward heard a repeat of the video he'd been watching in horror. Throughout Dent was laughing. 'Take it down!' Edward hissed.

'Why?'

Oh _god_. Not this game. 'Because Harv, it's embarrassing.' Edward sighed.

'Not for us.' Two-Face growled.

'Fine Harvey, I'll take it down myself.' Edward snapped and set about hacking into Youtube while hung over.

'Take it down and I send a copy to every rogue not in Arkham and several news stations too.' Dent threatened.

'_What?_' That dumbfounded Edward and the shrill pitch of his rising anger sent a scythe of pain through his head. '_Why would you do that?!_'

'Because seeing you trying to dance in the rain is pretty damn golden there Riddler.' Dent chuckled and the line went dead.

That _insufferable_-

The anger that flowed through his veins sent another warning pain across his brain.

He should know by now to trust no-one.

* * *

A/N: I hate this chapter, hate it. Cursed writers block and a lack of any decent plot ideas makes me so damn frustrated. A big shout out to Bat-teen28 who listens to _every_ stupid idea I come up with and is absolutely wonderful to me despite the pestering I do. xD Seriously Batty, where would I be without you?

A/N Part Two: So Double S got her mangy paws on a 3DS and Pokemon Y. You _know_ I'm going to become obsessed. Hopefully things won't suffer too much and I'll upload when I finish a chapter but, should things drag out, please be patient with Kalos' new Eevee trainer!


	8. Rule 8

**#8 Improvisation. **

Edward Nigma was a high priority inmate of Arkham Asylum. He was considered a narcissistic obsessive compulsive. Edward himself considered he was the most brilliant mind in Gotham, if not the world. It was true to say that nearly every scheme that involved pitching his skills against Batman's usually ended with his incarceration, but Batman had to be cheating. He couldn't be cleverer than Edward, that was simply absurd. That was saying the sky was purple. Batman would _never_ match his intellect, which was why he was forced to cheat often. One of these days he would fail, cheats or no, and Edward would win.

It was simply a matter of trying again and again until it happened.

However, Edward couldn't win while incarcerated.

It was child's play to trick his cell door to open; Midnight was the last patrol for an hour, a perfect opportunity to roam the corridors unnoticed. He arrived at Personal Storage fairly quickly.

Well, he wasn't going to leave without his precious suit now, was he? He loved that suit. The code to the lockup was a simple four digit number no-one had bothered to change since the dawn of the asylum.

Inside, it was a pristine and organised system of cheap plastic boxes labelled with patient names, patient intake numbers and warning stickers for various dangerous items found on them at the time of re-admittance.

Of course, Joker's box was fit to bursting with all manner of dangerous and gag weaponry. It was also plastered with so many labels it was impossible to make anything out through the clear plastic.

Ivy's box was filled with decayed vegetation from plants that had failed to grow in the dark, cold cupboard; Cobblepot's was full of his prized trick umbrellas.

He found his own box swiftly enough, it was moderately full of half finished crossword magazines, Rubik's cubes and Sudoku puzzles. They always took them from him on the basis that anything that stimulated what they laughably called "his psychosis" would be counterproductive to his therapy. The absolute gall and cheek of those peons who professed to be of the learned mind. Even Jonathan had surpassed what were once his colleagues in the understanding that Edward didn't _need_ the puzzles on paper to be able to solve them; he did have a photographic memory after all.

Eventually, he would get around to reclaiming everything in that box, but today it was all about escape and escape was not thinkable without the suit.

Not even caring, he slit the seal on the plastic and wrenched open the lid. With a sneer of disgust he realised they hadn't even folded it properly, they'd just thrown it in.

A few month of freezing conditions, pressed upon by heavy books and phones had left a distinct crease in the jacket, the pants were simply a mess and the shirt still held touches of blood from his newly healed lip.

Can he at least have one suit that lasted more than a year? It wasn't as if he went through the cheap racks of the charity bins, oh no. They were usually hand-made Italian designs crafted specifically for him.

It was absolutely typical that Batman would find a way to ruin each and every one of them until they were good for nothing but dusters, but this one…He _liked_ this one. He wanted to keep it.

He was grumbling to himself and picked at the spots of blood that stained his shirt when a noise from the corridor caught his attention.

Torch beams scythed through the slightly ajar door and warped across his face. It sounded like a patrol, _but they don't go on walk for another forty-five minutes_! He seethed to himself.

Swiftly he made his way back to the doorway and edged the door closed before they spotted anything amiss.

'I thought patrol wasn't due for another half-hour.' A voice grumbled angrily from the other side. 'I'm missing Wheel of Fortune for this.'

'They caught an inmate attempting to escape earlier. You know that loony Calendar Man and his rituals.'

Oh curses, of course. It was Saint Brighid's day or, more accurately, the first day of spring tomorrow. Julian and his Gaelic traditions, of course he'd be climbing the walls metaphorically to escape and, more than likely, leave a victim's bloody clothes outside.

He always attempted to escape but he'd generally find a way to invoke his little rituals at the asylum if that proved impossible.

Security was going to be triple what he'd estimated thanks to Day and his insane obsessions.

Can nothing be counted on? He was going to have to…_Improvise_.

Edward _hated_ improvisation. Doing something rash went against his basic nature but the alternative was solitary confinement for an attempted breakout and with his luck, he had no doubt he would end up next to Zsasz and be forced to listen to the man's godawful obsession with knives and killing.

It would almost be like being neighbours with Joker, something he would never begrudge Freis.

The patrol moved on and Edward took the opportunity to slip back into the corridor.

He wasn't going to need a large distraction, just a persistent one. His eyes fell on a cell door a few feet away, haggard grunting emanated from within.

Oh. _Oh_, that was brilliant. Even for him.

The cane rapped gently on the door, interrupting the grunting snores from within. He stepped back just in time as the awoken madman slammed himself into the cell door with a feral scream.

'KillKillKill!'

'Yes, yes.' Edward sighed. Oh how he hated utilizing such brutes, leftovers of Strange's experiments no doubt but needs must.

'Kill!' The psycho screamed.

'_Listen first_.' Edward snarled menacingly as the psycho failed to control himself. 'And then you may kill.'

The snorts and screams fell silent. 'Kill?' It moaned.

_Ah, a smart one. It retains some higher function at least. _He smirked triumphantly. 'You want to kill?' He repeated.

'Kill! Blood! Kill!' It replied.

_Well, at least it knows more than one word. _Edward noted dryly.

'Hey, HEY!'

The Wheel of Fortune fans were back.

'Then kill.' Edward pulled the door open easily enough and rounded the corner as the guards skidded to a stop outside the open cell. For a few seconds, everything was silent.

'Now, we don't want to have to hurt you- _ARGH!_'

'Let him go! _Let him go!_'

He dusted his beloved jacket off happily and applauded his quick thinking. Who said he couldn't improvise?

He whistled tunelessly as he strolled pleasantly for an exit and ignored the pain filled screaming that echoed through the corridor, mingled with two words screamed over and over again.

* * *

_That was literally the one and only time that worked. It's not that he's bad at improvising, more he hates not being able to see every outcome of his actions. There have been situations before and after this that required a lot of improv. and Edward is absolutely insufferable if a plan doesn't go right. You see my dilemma of course. The only people he has to take that out on is Batman and me and Batman certainly won't be decent enough to just die already. _

A/N: I've been a bad fangirl and haven't updated in a while, hopefully this makes up for it and is as good as the others. Stitcher's been on some funky meds the last few days trying to clear up the flu.

A big thank you to everyone who comments upon and has followed or favourited The Rules, it means a lot to Edward's ego.


	9. Rule 9

**#9 Stack the deck. **

He just loved this. He loved it. Edward Nigma spent almost all of his time designing and building traps for Batman. Mainly because he wanted to defeat the dark knight but sometimes, it was just gloriously good fun to watch him attempt to navigate his way to Edward and patently, no-one else stood a chance of it.

Take the latest death trap for example. Edward had grown bored and frustrated with simple killing rooms; there was always so much he inevitably couldn't pack into them. Well, he _could_ but that would make them inelegant and Edward valued elegance of execution above simple things such as body count.

Still, it had posed a dilemma to him and he found a most ingenious way of solving them.

He'd taken an old bomb shelter on the outskirts of Gotham and turned it into a maze. He'd packed it out with the limit of his creative genius. Every sadistic little thought and plan he'd ever had stored in that remarkable head of his was made a reality and found somewhere to be housed in the spacious and abandoned complex. He'd then invited the citizens of Gotham to make it to the bottom with their cunning and wit to discover the secret of the bunker.

Of course no-one ever did. Their own stupidity killed them long before they found the 'Secret'. As an added little game, he'd hidden several clues to his real identity to the levels.

And now Batman had come to investigate it. It was absolutely wonderful and a perfect opportunity to catch him off guard.

When Batman was concerned, overkill was understatement.

He'd stumbled across the Riddler Trophy lamp in the first room, really more of a mild test than an actual attempt to kill him and had descended to the second.

Edward hardly remembered when taunting Batman had been so much fun. It was fair to say that the past few month had been filled with his own stagnation. As much as he hated to admit it, the old adage of too much time in your own company occasionally held merit.

But now he felt like his devious old self once again as he watched Batman idly trod on a cleverly disguised pressure plate and barely dodged the spikes that sank into the wall almost effortlessly.

And then they started _ticking_.

Edward chuckled lightly to himself as he saw Batman take a tumble down the stairs into the next room. It was an absolute shame he hadn't been skewered, but there at least thirty or more hidden traps waiting in this room alone.

This time, the Dark Knight watched where he stepped and inspected the floor. Edward had to grin to himself at the knowledge that Batman's troubles weren't at his _feet._ More…Face height.

Sure enough…

_**BANG!**_

'Argh!'

He had triggered the shotgun which nearly succeeded in taking his entire arm off but the spoilsport dodged at the last second.

His shoulder was in virtual pieces and this was only the third level of The Bunker. There were still three more levels to go and each level became twice as dangerous as the last. No-one had succeeded in getting past level three and judging by Batman's pained expression, he wasn't going to either.

'Riddler!' So he'd worked it out, fairly quickly too. Although he'd deduct points for the shoulder. Edward couldn't help it, he had to respond.

'Yes, Dark Knight? Finding it tedious going?'

'Do you know how many people you've killed?' Batman gasped as he slouched towards the other side of the room.

'Me? None.' Edward replied. 'Every one of them was killed by their own stupidity. I didn't force them to come here and participate. I did warn them they'd find more than what they bargained for. I gave them riddles, just as I did _you_.'

Batman finally succumbed to his own pain and sank to the floor against a wall. Edward pulled out his pocket watch and counted down the seconds until charge was at maximum. Five, four, three…

A stray spark ran along the length of the tile and up his injured shoulder. Batman leapt to his feet so fast you'd almost think he'd been _electrocuted_.

Edward smiled at his own joke.

Did he have this recording? He _wanted_ that recording. He'd been looking for a new screensaver for frankly too long and this was a serious contender.

'Damn it, Riddler do I have to come and get you?' Batman snarled.

'But of course!' Edward laughed.

When you stack the deck, you stack it to win, after all.

* * *

_Oh man, Edward did not make it easy on Batman. That place was tricked out. Still, it was a fun lesson. Always stack the deck in your favour and…Maybe block all communications so he doesn't call in his super friends to trash your newest playground? That should have been a lesson…_

A/N: Normally, I'm not one for begging for reviews. If you like it enough to review that's good enough for me, usually. However I do like to hear what you guys are thinking. Did you like the new chapter? Did it make you laugh? Was it too out of character? Or do you think you could have done a better job with the prompt?

A/N two: This is a particularly rough segment of The Rules, if you've noticed a decline in quality I apologise. These are particularly vague prompts that I don't have an actual plot set for. So what happens is whatever comes to mind. Sometimes, they'll be funny, or maybe serious or maybe even *Gasps* a win for Riddles.

P.S: Smug Riddler is smug. That is all.


	10. Rule 10

**#10 Exploit Weakness**

Arkham Asylum's cafeteria was hardly certified to prepare and distribute food. If you found something absolutely unchewable in it, you swallowed and hoped that whatever it was would pass without incident or intervention, however the occasion of mealtimes while not used for eating only enough to live did have the advantages of seeing other inmates. Edward had somehow formed his own group; he wasn't sure how it happened. One minute it was simply he and Jonathan and the next they had been joined by Jervis Tetch, Joker, Harley Quinn, Warren White and Harvey Dent.

It was alarming how well they got on despite the immediate drawback that they all hated each other on one level or another.

He and Jonathan usually played games of deduction about the Arkham staff and he was surprised that Jon could see almost as much as he could, some that even he hadn't spotted, which was mainly fears and concerns.

It was useful. Their favourite game was the leverage game, otherwise known as spot the weakness. Occasionally, the entire group got involved. It was, after all, the most entertainment they were likely to get in the asylum. Currently, they were deducing all they could about that insufferable bigot Frank Boles.

'Lonely, alcoholic, uses internet dating for casual sex, will likely end up with too many cats.'

'Internet dating, really? I would have suggested wanted ads in newspapers over internet dating.'

'Statistically, internet dating is more likely.' Edward replied smugly. 'Proliferation of smartphones and internet access means there are more candidates on dating websites than the seeking column.'

'Yes, thank you Sherlock and Watson.' Joker snapped.

'I dunno what's more creepy, how accurate Jonny and Eddie can be or that they actually enjoy it.' Harley whined loudly which caused both men to glare at her.

Of course she wouldn't understand that this was about the only mental stimulation one got in the asylum, beyond taunting and playing with the psychologists but everyone enjoyed doing that. Harley was a _product_ of that.

Edward Nigma was banned from written and cyber communication. It was just a relief that they'd left him with _verbal_ communication although even that was restricted to non cryptic speech. He wasn't allowed to ask riddles and he wasn't allowed to use anagrams, he was barely able to ask questions without someone warning him. The second a member of staff overheard his use of just one of the aforementioned literary wits, it would be solitary. Thanks to their ridiculous notions of psychosis he was also kept as far from puzzles of any kind as possible. That included crosswords, Sudoku, riddles, rhymes and on and on. His brain always stagnated without fresh input.

'What about Sharp?' Shark enquired. 'What would you pick up from him?'

'Ooh Sharpy's a closed book there icicle head.' Shark threw a hate-filled glare at Joker.

'I hardly doubt that,' Edward smiled. 'There are certain things one can pick up from observations alone.'

'Well my dear Caterpillar, here is your chance. The Dodo has arrived for the tea party.'

Jervis and his damn practice of allotting characters to people. It was annoying in the least but no-one could seem to get rid of him.

All eyes turned to the slightly portly man as he and his immaculate suit strode in.

'I'm surprised that pompous windbag deems it necessary to eat with the degenerates of his asylum.' Crane remarked.

'Maybe he just needs a reason why he shouldn't, Scary.' Joker replied in much darker tones.

'Aw, Mistah J's only mad because Sharpy didn't like the last joke he played.' Harley chirped, happily oblivious to the virtual murder going on. 'He gave my poor puddin' solitary for a month!'

'So, Riddler, what do you detect?' Shark challenged.

They watched as Sharp fidgeted with his own cane – A much cheaper and tackier one than Edwards was – and approached one of the Psychologists Edward had no knowledge of ever meeting although there must be at least one that they had yet to snap into submission.

The way his shoulders were set, the gleam of sweat on his bald head; the way his fingers twisted over the cane…Something wasn't right with Quincy Sharp. There was something he was missing.

Edward's attention switched to the bald man he was talking to – More like cowering at – and noted the power position first. He believed he had some sort of power over Sharp. Something the normally bull-headed warden would challenge.

There was a puzzle at work in Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly, his brain felt alive again. He felt the fizz of excitement.

'Well?' Dent demanded. 'Don't leave us in suspense, Nigma.'

'Weakness.' Edward grinned. 'I detect weakness.'

* * *

_And he intends to exploit it. Oh man, Edward smells blood. When he knows something's going on he can't resist finding it out. If I were him, I'd drop this one but as he just loves to point out: I have no chance at ever being close to his intellect. _

_I have a life. _

A/N: Look at that! I made Arkham City references! I know it's short but it's longer than the last one!

Is it wrong I just love it when the Rogues gang get together? The dynamic is just brilliant! Thanks to Batty and readingstuff4fun who assured me they at least continue to read my ham-fisted ramblings and i'm not as much of a hack at this than first thought. This chapter of deviousness is for you two!


	11. Rule 11

**#11 Give Batman Distractions. **

'Oh you were so close Batman! But once again, you _failed_.' Edward chuckled into the microphone and watched as Batman paced up and down in front of the dead body of his former hostage.

Oh he was mad, excessively mad but that was what Edward wanted. He wanted Batman focused on him with every fibre and he was going to make it extremely difficult for the vigilante to find him.

Because…That would distract him from what was happening elsewhere in Gotham. It was a favour for Penguin which Edward would be sure to cash in with due time. It hardly took much convincing after all. Batman was disrupting the routes that Cobblepot was using to smuggle various illegal items into the city and valuable product was being lost but the latest shipment was something Oswald couldn't possibly have confiscated, or so he told Edward. He had no idea what it was, other than the businessman was willing to pay handsomely to have Batman out of the way for as long as possible. Edward was more than up for a rematch, this time he'd win or maybe just get away scot free. Getting away would count as a win in his book any day.

'Riddler, this is murder!' Batman snarled as he whirled around in some attempt to find the hidden camera Edward was watching from.

_Oh my, he is furious isn't he? Well lets just see how angry Batman can get. _

'I agree, you should have found her sooner Batman. It's hardly my fault she's dead. You know…She was screaming for you to rescue her.'

'_**Nigma!' **_

Edward smirked in the ghostly light of the monitor he was using to watch Batman pace, frustrated.

'I will find you, Nigma.' Batman threatened to the empty shell of a building the hostage had been left in. 'And when I do-'

'You'll what?' Edward laughed. 'You can't find me!' He taunted further, pushing his luck no doubt and should Batman ever catch up with him he'd certainly get more than a deserved thrashing but that was the beauty of it all. Batman thought himself so good, _so worthy_ that he couldn't possibly take it far enough to kill. Not even the courts and their pathetic tissue paper rules would dare mete out a punishment as severe as the crime because he was _insane_. Edward Nigma was not insane, but the insanity plea had it's uses.

'I _will_ find you.' Batman snarled darkly. Oooh he'd touched a nerve there.

'I look forward to it Dork Knight.'

Batman stood there for a few seconds before whirling around and making for the door. His fingers brushed his imposing cowl where, presumably, the ears would be located.

'Oracle, I need the coroner-'

And he was out the door.

Well, hunting for Edward would take some time and after that little stunt it could be guaranteed that Batman wouldn't pursue anything like smuggling while The Riddler was at large.

Edward sat back, happy his job was done. He fumbled in his pockets for a few moments before he found the useless iPhone his employees had brought him as a replacement for his much loved and much abused flip-phone.

'Oswald.' Edward greeted the abrasive cockney accent on the phone. 'Oh yes, the Bat's well taken care of, should be for the next few days...' What followed was a lesson in idle chit-chat and gossip. It was always nice to keep in touch with the failures of other rogues. Oswald heard almost as much as Edward did. The Iceberg did particularly well when it came to helping poor sods drown their sins, be it rogues or citizens.

He ended the call and lamented it didn't feel the same without the familiar snap.

Getting paid to give Batman distractions? That was his kind of work, any day of the week and the cash would be used eventually in his own schemes to catch The Bat.

Because Oswald simply was never going to succeed, but Edward was happy to take his money in any case.

* * *

_All together now readers: It's going to backfire! Oh my is it going to backfire. Letting innocent citizens die, Edward? It's almost as bad as beating up a bird boy. It paints a bat-shaped target on your head. I liked the iPhone damn it! It had Angry Birds on there! Don't get me started on Flappy Bird. Bane of my existence. _

A/N: Once again, we find our intrepid villain taunting Batman. Honestly, when is he going to learn? Switch has a point though, it's going to paint a bat-shaped target on him. I'm not sure how to feel about this one. On the one hand, I loved the dynamic between them over who is to blame for the death but on the other...Blergh. It seems my enthusiasm drained away at the end.


	12. Rule 12

**#12 Follow through on your threats. **

Sometimes, he despaired of the world and their interpretations of criminality. Gotham city had, hands down, cornered the market of criminal behaviour and there was undoubtedly an element of competition among the rogues. Edward Nigma's place was a rather complicated one.

His offences were, by and large, innocuous. He tried very hard not to kill, he didn't murder – At least, not often - and he hated and abhorred violence to that part of the world that was small, fluffy and went _**squeak**_.

He even helped those idiots who were attempting to capture him. He always left notes and riddles to his crimes weeks in advance. Some people considered it foolhardy; some considered that it more a cry for help. That he _wanted _to be caught. Of course he didn't want to be caught, what he wanted was the challenge. He wanted the police and yes, even Batman on their best game.

Because it was infinitely more fun.

But sometimes, sometimes he couldn't avoid bloodshed. Sometimes, they needed a show of what he was capable of.

If there was one thing the people of Gotham were going to learn today, it was that The Riddler always followed through on his threats.

Edward Nigma was furious beyond words. Beyond anything he'd experienced before.

The Gotham Tribune had released their yearly list of most terrifying rogues. Joker had once again scooped the top spot for the fifth year running with his little jack in the box routine. That was hardly a surprise, Joker always made number 1. Especially after he paid the paper a visit the year he'd been knocked off the top spot by Black Mask.

Second place went to Croc because he was a big, scaly, cannibalistic _bastard_. That was perfectly acceptable because there were things under rocks that were terrified of Croc.

Of course, third place had gone to Jon after his stunt on Halloween with the parade balloons and toxins. It was simply inspired for his limited talents and over a hundred people had been affected before they managed to bring the balloons down.

They were undisputed and well deserved places. What got under Edward's nose was his ranking. Of course the paper handed out places based on number of schemes, fatalities, ingenuity and many other aspects and Edward had never aspired to be in the top three. That would mean pissing off two very unpredictable rogues and Jonathan absolutely deserved the last spot.

What got under his nose was the fact he ranked lower than Jervis.

Jervis Tetch. He ranked lower than _Jervis Tetch_. Lower than a man with only a slight grip on reality.

_The goddamn Mad Hatter._

He wasn't pleased either, by the accompanying reasons.

Less than ten killings, lacklustre schemes, an inability to think big-

_What were they thinking? Of course he thought big! He thought so big that patently the idiots at the Gotham Tribune couldn't see it!_

He may not have been in the forefront of people's minds and a lot of his _underappreciated_ work was spent gathering and trading information but god almighty-

His eyes found the small script at the top of the paper, usually reserved for those reporters foolish enough to attach their names to a story.

_Compiled by Chris Pike_.

He hadn't read much further before the red mist had descended and then the anger had taken over. Someone was going to pay for this. Someone at Gotham Tribune.

People had opened up their papers yesterday morning and wondered what on earth had happened to the news. Edward had made the news, he made it into a riddle and those just slightly more intelligent than the Editor would know that it was a riddle, wrapped inside an anagram and made by an _enigma_.

And that was but a warning of what was to come.

If writers and editors were going to heckle some of the most dangerous people in Gotham, one would think it would be prudent to disguise or even amend their home address. It wouldn't have helped in the slightest, but it could have been done.

Chris Pike patently hadn't followed that little rule and it irked Edward that finding him was hardly a problem at all. It should have been a challenge, it should have been harder to find considering the police presence outside of the house.

Patently, someone had worked out his little cipher because half of Gotham's finest meat-headed officers had taken up some sort of security detail on the residence Edward was currently watching. That too, was futile because Edward would find a way in, he always found a way.

_It was probably Batman._ He decided with a scowl. _Gordon doesn't have the intelligence._ Neither did that Bat-brained oaf, but he seemed to have resources the GCPD didn't have. Somehow, he'd found a way to solve Edward's carefully crafted clues which infuriated him far more than it really should have.

The added security wouldn't do the man much good at all. After a time of careful observation, he found his weakness in the pattern and resolved upon the next rotation to take it.

It was hardly difficult to someone used to stealth and the occasional breaking and entering to find a way into the house once he'd come close to it. Nobody ever thought of locking bathroom windows but doors? Patios? Oh certainly!

He nearly sank a foot into the toilet but avoided that hazard at the last second. While it wasn't a dignified entry, it was entry nonetheless. If he had a little longer before rushing off to inflict misery on Mister Pike, he may have planned enough to take the front route.

Still, he was in.

It didn't take him long to find the master bedroom and it's lone occupant but surprisingly, it wasn't a man. It was a woman. He hadn't come across a girlfriend but any kind of leverage would do in this situation.

She must have been one heavy sleeper to have slept through his near debacle in the bathroom and of course, the heavy police presence outside. She certainly found it difficult to ignore the hand that reached down and wrapped itself in her hair.

Edward was not in the mood to play nice.

Of course, she screamed in pain as he dragged her from the bed and downstairs.

'What the hell?' She screamed as he threw her at the dining chair he'd pulled out. 'What is wrong with you?!'

_Temper, temper. _ He could feel the boiling rage threatening to overcome his calmness. This was already more work than he'd predicted and now the man wasn't even here for him to torture.

His problems with anger were usually counter-productive to whatever he was doing and it was well known that Edward Nigma in a rage was a force unto himself but this time he found the rage was actually helpful. He was too furious to muck around with riddles and plenty furious enough to get over his aversion to killing.

'I want to know where Chris is. Tell me and you just might live.' He snarled.

She froze in the act of rubbing the sore skin of her head. 'Chris? Why? What do you want from Chris?'

'I want to discuss the finer points of an article he wrote last week. The yearly _"Batman's most dangerous foes"_ List. He got my ranking wrong.'

'Wrong ranking? _He?_' For a moment she looked dumbfounded and then understanding suddenly dawned on her face. She seemed suitably shocked and terrified.

'Where is he? I won't ask again.' Edward pressed. Rather impressively, she burst into terrified tears.

'C-Chris isn't a he!' She blubbered and clutched at her designer pyjamas.

_What?!_

It didn't take him long to connect the dots and see his error. 'Chris…Is a woman's name?'

'It stands for Christine! I didn't think anyone would take my journalism seriously under such a flowery name!' She sobbed all the harder as he stared at her pathetic form.

He really should have checked better, he should have wondered why there were no pictures but then he'd been so enraged and focused on showing Chris Pike the error of his/her way that he'd hardly cared to look beyond the address.

'So are you going to let me go?' She pleaded damply.

'Oh don't think for one moment I'm such a sexist. I'm still going to kill you.'

'Why?' She wailed all the harder.

'You allowed that horrendous piece about me to print.' He replied coldly. 'I am, _once again_, the laughing stock of the criminal world.'

His eyes registered a black shape moving in the shadows and darted behind the chair.

'Come out Batman. Or I kill her _now_.' He pulled a pistol from his jacket and aimed it at the back of Christine's head. When she heard the safety disengage she began to hyperventilate. As expected whenever an innocent was in danger, Batman did as he was instructed and crawled from the shadows he'd been hiding in.

'Put the gun down, Nigma.' Edward found it infuriating that Batman still thought he had some control over the situation. Batman had no control; he was looking for some way of gaining the upper hand but Edward was not going to give it to him, not this time.

'No, I don't think I will.' The gun kissed the back of Christine's head.

'Riddler, you can't do that unless you can put it in a riddle. We know that. You need to be in control. '

'You idiots and your abhorrent labels of psychosis! Well then, _I am here. You can get to me by many ways. Once you get here, you become bone._ The answer, of course is _death_.'

The shot was loud in the small room and Batman was far too late to stop it.

After Edward's act, the Gotham Tribune stopped producing their little list which made the resulting stint in Arkham almost worth it.

* * *

_There's another lesson in this and it's for the citizenry of Gotham. If you're going to piss off a rogue, hide yo address better. I don't know about you watchers, but this was kind of inevitable. When you take the worst of the worst in terms of insanity and turn their feared monikers into a popularity contest…It was bound to happen. Edward just happened to be the cracker that found the flame. _

A/N: Sorry for making this kinda dark at the end. Yes, Edward is never normally one to kill, at least outright but people will rile him so. I'd like to think this was compounded somewhat by the insufferable nature of Jervis and constant reminders from other people that he was ranked lower than The Mad Hatter. Switch gets it almost spot on when she says Edward just happened to be the cracker that found the flame. Yay tenth favouriter! Thank you! I feel I should issue an apology. Stitcher's said this before on her profile and she'll say it again now: She haz a lazy. Like really lazy. Sorry subscribers, Edward and this saga of stories are being difficult. That being said, inspiration finally struck for this one!

PS: You guys are just going to _love _the next rule. It involves Edward and babies. Not gonna lie, it might be the worst thing I've done yet to poor Edward Nigma. Excuse me while I go and hide my address….


End file.
